The Hindsight Job
by Sunbird Riding Shotgun
Summary: Six years, ten months, two weeks, and four days after escaping the crime lord Nishka Eliot is forced to confront the long nightmare that helped make him the specalist he is today.


**A/n:** Yet more of my Eliot torturing obsession, only this time with plot! I encourage people who read this to read my piece titled "Rescue" since the opening little bit is a direct reference to it but I think this stands alone just as well.

This chapter is dedicated to Patriot, the horse I rode for three years, in thanks for her not maiming me in our time working together.

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The Hindsight Job

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**Location Unknown  
Seven Years Ago**

_Eliot kept his eyes closed, blocking out everything but the sound of the guard's footsteps as they faded. He'd tried to figure out the pattern for two days only to admit their sweeps were random which meant that it was up to luck. Luck hadn't been with him in the two months, three weeks, and five days he'd been in here._

_He listened to the boots fading and tried to identify if there were any more coming. It sounded like the guards were gone this time. _Go_ He told himself his chained hands just barely able to contort and stretch enough to reach where he'd hidden the most recent of the lock picks he'd acquired. He wouldn't have been able to reach it even a couple weeks ago. _

_In nine seconds flat he picked the lock securing his wrists to the wall. Two seconds to get up and cross the floor, ignoring the broken ribs and dozen other injuries he'd obtained in his time here. After two months, three weeks, and five days pain was something that let him know he was still alive. It was like breathing, a constant. _

_The lock on the door of his cell took six seconds and he spent precious seconds opening the door just a crack to slip through without risking the rusted hinges giving him away. He snuck down the hall with skills he'd mastered the hard way. Four of his escape attempts had failed because guards had detected him as he snuck around. He didn't plan on making this number five._

_He took the guard who'd passed his cell moments ago out before he'd even known what hit him. Eliot compared their sizes a moment before moving on. He'd have to find a smaller guard or a storage closet to pull of that part of this plan. He did take the guard's id badge. They looked close enough in face._

_He left the gun, but made sure to remove the magazine first. Guns made noise and he needed silence. _

_Two of Eliot's more recent escape attempts had really been tactical scouting missions. He'd realized that he'd need to know the dungeons exactly to escape them. He knew every inch of this place now, down to where the guards never looked and where they liked to play cards. _

_Eliot used the guard's keys to open an empty cell and leave him inside it. No reason to let anyone in on his escape before he made it. While in the cell he heard the sound of boots coming along the stone floor. Eliot paused inside, listening on baited breath for the guard to pass without noting him. _

_The guard had just rounded the corner when Eliot came out and took him down. _

_He heard the boots running toward him before he realized they'd made a fatal mistake. There was no alarm going off. They hadn't pulled the alarm. _

_Eliot waited for them to see him before he ducked into the cell he'd been in moments ago. Nine guys followed him in without realizing cell doors closed and locked automatically and radios didn't work from inside them. As long as he could keep them from getting a key into the door he could take them out before they could alert anyone he'd escaped. _

_Later he wouldn't even be able to believe he'd managed to do just that. At least he'd managed to find a uniform that fit him._

_The finger print scanner to open the door to the stairs was easy when you had eleven unconscious guys but he knew the stairs had security cameras. He had planned for this, the camera's were low enough quality they wouldn't be able to recognize more than a guard in uniform, still last time he'd given himself away by acting suspicious. He felt like it was the craziest thing he'd done, to simply walk like a bored guard up three flights of stairs and slip his badge into the reader. He punched in the code he'd picked up through some hard won spying opportunities and walked out into the hallway. _

_He wouldn't head for the exit. That would be too obvious and he still would have found himself in the middle of the compound's yard. He headed for the guards barracks, keeping himself nonchalant as he went. This entire place was paranoid but if you acted normally no one would give you a second look. Even sporting a black eye didn't seem to mark him as unusual. Maybe the fact the cells were so dark you couldn't make out most people's features was a bit of a bonus. _

_He entered the guard's barracks and kept walking. He was in unknown territory and he had to admit, half the reason no one gave him a second glance might be because who would think an escaped prisoner would have the audacity to do what he's doing? But he'd heard the guards joking about sneaking out to get some love in town. If these brutes could manage to find a way out he may be able to do so too. _

_He found his way to the back of the barracks, then out a back door. A reinforced steel little door meant for uses he wasn't sure he cared about was in the wall less than five feet from the barracks. No guards could see this little alley from the wall. He was about to pick the lock when he smelled smoke. _

_Nearby a guard stepped off a staircase to the wall top with a cigarette. _

_It was all Eliot could do to not blow his cover right there._

_"Looking for love?" The smoking guard asked in Russain with a slight tease. The past two months, three weeks, and five days had Eliot practically thinking in Russian. "Go on then. I got a call about something in the dungeons a minute ago and I'm 'bout to go check it out. That old hellions at it again. Bring me back a little something and I'll forget I saw you duck out."_

_Eliot smiled, forcing himself to act casual and not trusting his voice not to shake as he unlocked the door and closed it behind him. He stepped out into the morning sunlight beyond the compound, wincing at it's brightness when the sun emerged from behind a cloud. He wasn't safe yet, but after two months, three weeks, and five days he was just glad to get to see the sun again._

**Bennings University  
Bennings County, Vermont**

Eliot had to admit after the job they'd pulled for Willy he should of expected he'd be getting all the roles that had anything to do with horses. He wasn't complaining. It had been kinda nice, spending a couple of days playing a horse back riding instructor with the added bonus that he was doing so at a pricey woman's college in the middle of nowhere. He didn't even have the past coming back to make things complicated this time which was a nice change of pace.

Even though if he heard one more girl start humming "Save a Horse Ride a Cowboy" some violence may occur mostly he'd been pretty happy with his gig this time around. The job had gone smooth, for reasons beyond his comprehension considering it was Parker they had playing a grad student, and he'd more or less had this role just as an excuse to be nearby if something went wrong.

But as of twenty minutes ago when Sophie had finished the con on the Dean of Admissions, made sure the proper authorities knew he'd been forcing scholarship applicants to pay bribes and then siphoning off most of the money meant for scholarships, and ensured said money returned to the proper hands with healthy interest this job was over. All he had left to do was collect the knives he'd habitually hidden throughout the stable and give the horses a final pat or two before he left. Maybe if the others were taking their time he'd give Patriot a last go over. She was a cranky old gal but she'd seemed to be pretty taken to him after these last few days.

"Looks like you've got time to go play horse whisperer Eliot." Hardison said over their coms. "Nate's pulling something with the Dean so this could take awhile. Parker? You get to skip class."

Parker's delighted giggle added to the smile crossing Eliot's face as he leaned against Patriot's stall door and the gray mare stuck her head out to give him a one eyed look. If it had been any of his "student's" Eliot would of advised her to move away swiftly before the somewhat foul tempered horse made an attempt on her ear. For him Patriot seemed to know better, not that she didn't push it, lipping at his hair until he caught her nose in one hand and brought it down. He opened his other hand to show one of the last apple bits he had to get rid of. "A final treat for ya ma'am." He said, half joking.

"You're still in the stables right Eliot?" Hardison asked over the com. "How much do you like horses anyway?"

Eliot chose to ignore the question and the double meaning he'd have to punch Hardison for later. He'd heard something. It wasn't unusual, girls had been frequenting the stables quite a bit recently but something had set his instincts into high alert. The noise had been too quiet. Just enough to alert him but even a girl trying to sneak in made more.

"Somthings up." Eliot barely whispered into the com before moving away from Patriot's stall to the half open stable door leading out to the enclosures where classes were taught. He opened it fully, glad he'd instinctively oiled all the hinges at the start of this.

"What do you mean somthings up?" Hardison asked. "Is it pull the plug up or somthings going down up or what?"

Eliot was about to reply when he heard a voice travel through the stables from the front of the barn. "Mister Spencer vere are you? Mister Nishka would like very much to have vords with you." Eliot chose to ignore wondering how a Russian mob boss managed to track him down at Women's Nowhereland University and move quickly. Fight or flight. Fight or flight. The man in question appeared at the end of a row of stalls. "Ve've come on his behalf." More than one, and that one was Nigel, Nishka's "hired man". He didn't seem to like guns much either.

Looked like this was going to be a flight situation.

"So I can tell them what I want to say now right?" Parker had asked seconds after Hardison told them that Sohpie had pulled the con and the job was done. After getting go ahead, she had been holding in most of her comments on what exactly she thought of her room mate for the better part of a week and Sohpie agreed she deserved a reward for the achievement. Their work on people skills seemed to be making some minor advances afterall, she'd only insulted a few of her classmates thus far.

Parker had been happily approaching her dorm, anticipating relief of all that had been going on in her head, giving her a headache she didn't need, eager to make good use of her first permitted skipping of class when she heard Eliot comment on something being wrong. There was no clarification.

Two minutes later she was making her way to the stables on the outskirts of campus, Nate, and Sophie not far behind when she heard the beginnings of what sounded like a fight and not one of Eliot's blink and you miss it fights either.

This was bad.

Alec pulled the van up beside her and Parker didn't need a second urging before jumping in to the door sophie and Nate were opening. Thirty seconds later the sounds of a fight over their coms had given way to silence then the sound of hooves. They watched through the front window of the van as Eliot rode a gray horse bareback across the practice yards and jump the fence to ride towards the van not slowing until they were practically playing chicken.

It was only a few seconds for Eliot to swing off the horse, send it galloping back toward the stables and get into the van. No one needed to see the well controlled fear in his eyes to know they should be getting out of New England and covering their tracks fifteen minutes ago.

"Who was that?" Hardison asked as they drove through Benning's main gate.

"Nigel Hasrolf, the Hood of Kiev." Eliot said, still trying to catch his breath.

"Man how many people from Kiev want to kill you?"

Eliot didn't really respond, he'd sat in the back corner of the van, tightly curled around himself lips moving just enough for Parker to catch what he mumbled.

"Six years, ten months, two weeks, four days."


End file.
